My Sweet Mother
by Jerickk
Summary: Tharic Heartrage is a young nord boy, a mage noless, a terrible tragedy has destroyed his family leaving him mentally unstable but Tharic's new family welcomes his madness. A Dark Brotherhood story.
1. Chapter 1: My Sweet Mother pt 1

**My Sweet Mother**

By Jerickk

**Chapter 1: My Sweet Mother (pt. 1)**

Set 163 years after the death of Emperor Titus Mede II… (4E 364)

Ever wonder why some people join the brotherhood? There are those who are trained from birth in the art of murder, for these souls this is simply all they know, they know no other way of life. Then you have your lunatics and psychopaths, these people enjoy inflicting pain on others and revel in watching the light leave the eyes of those they kill while some enjoy the hunt, stalking and chasing their prey waiting for the right moment to move in for the kill. Then you have your natural borns, those just born with a talent for violence, some embracing it, others fighting it and some not sure what to make of this talent.

In the Hold of Falkreath, the province of Skyrim lived Tharic Heartrage, a Nord boy of 16 with short silver hair, blue eyes, a lean build but still tall. Living with his mother in a little hut on the outskirts of Falkreath city, Tharic found himself once again at his mother's side helping another one of Falkreath's unfortunate citizens.

"Another bandit attack mother?"

"Yes as it would seem Tharic, you work on healing the legs while I'll focus on mending the body."

Tharic's hands glowed with a golden aura, healing the cuts and wounds of the traveller, the sight of blood use to make Tharic sick but now after so many healings he had just gotten used to the sight and smells of blood.

Once the traveller was healed he left as son has he had arrived, not even some much as a farewell. Tharic was always shock by the treatment he and his mother received from the people of Falkreath city, the people made a habit of alienating Tharic and his mother for their open practice of magic but whenever one of them was attacked by an animal or bandit they would come crawling, literally, to their doorstep begging for aid.

Tharic's mother never turned anyone away and didn't even ask for coin in exchange for the service, she believed that help should be given to those that need it. Tharic tried to feel same way as his mother did but found it difficult, he didn't believe in helping those that didn't accept him simply because he could do things that other couldn't or didn't understand.

"Do you think they will ever accept us for mages Mother?"

"It is hard to accept what you are scared of Tharic, maybe someday they might accept us but that day is long and far. Go now and get some wood for the fire."

Tharic's mother always had a way of making boring chores slightly less boring as she did it with a smile and a slight laugh in her voice making it seem chores were that little more enjoyable.

Tharic's Mother was a tall thin woman of berton descent (Tharic's father a Nord no longer with them). She was in her late thirties, 36 to be exact, her hair was dark brown and flowing down to her mid back it had only just started to grey, her eyes were dark almost black. She had a slim figure, sharp facial features and a comforting aura about her.

Tharic made his way to his usually spot for collecting wood, a fallen tree which he used to snap branches off, when he got their he had found that the tree had entirely gone, the villagers of Falkreath must have cut up the tree from days ago, which left Tharic to wonder the woods in search of branches laying on the ground.

The day had grown dark and the winds started to pick up, rain and thunder roared all around Tharic he knew he had to hurry as the wood would eventually get to damp to burn. As he wondered the road looking from side to side for anything he could use, over yonder, down a small hill off the road, he found that another tree had fallen to the strong winds and that it was ripe for the plucking.

Tharic quickly raced down to the tree almost slipping due to the rain and began a long process of stripping what he could from the tree. Once he had all that he could carry, Tharic turn around to head back up the road but found himself confronted by an odd rock formation imbedded in the stone. The rock was a black as a shadow and the rain weighted heavily on Tharic's face, barely able to make out the formation. As he grew closer to the rock wall Tharic noticed that it was not in fact a wall but some type of strange door, like none he had ever seen.

The closer he came the more detail he could distinguish; the door had the engraving of a giant skull centred in the middle covering almost the entire door. As Tharic grew even closer so did his fear of the door, and then he saw etched on the forehead of the skull, a right hand which was coloured a shade of red that put Tharic even more on the edge then he was already.

"What in the name of Talos?"

The rain seemed to fall even heavier and the wind became even stronger as Tharic reached out to touch the black door, but before he could a voice whispered in Tharic's head.

"What is the music of life?"

The voice was deep and dark and sounded like that of an echo, Tharic spun around as if expecting to meet someone behind him, but there was no one. As Tharic reached for the door again he was stopped by a voice once more not that of a deep echo but that of crying child. Even amongst the rain and wind he could make out the faint cries of a child, a girl no less.

It came from the road up the small hill that concealed the door, Tharic raced up onto the road to see a small girl sitting in the middle of the road with her face buried in her hands, sobbing.

The girl had brown hair and sightly pale skin, and couldn't have been any older than ten; she wore what was considered the standard clothing of any child living in Skyrim, a long dress made out of cloth that flowed all the way down to her feet but in the colours of black and red. She also wore a belt much bigger than any other child would wear with an unusually shaped buckle that Tharic couldn't quite figure out from a distance.

"Are you alright?"

Tharic shouted at the girl concerned for her wellbeing, moving ever closer towards her. The girl looked up towards Tharic, still crying.

"I lost my mummy and daddy."

The girl rosed to her feet, still rubbing her face, trying to hide her tears that where trickling down her check, or was it the rain? Tharic couldn't tell the difference.

"It's going to be okay, I help you find your ma and pa."

"You will? Thankyou mister!"

The girls face lit up as Tharic grew closer, in among the mist of the rain Tharic extended his hand out towards the girl. Tharic focussing on reaching for her hand didn't see the change of expression on the girls face, changing from a relieving smile to a sadistic glee.

Just as Tharic's hand was about to reach the girl's a flash of lighting came down from above throwing Tharic onto his back and the girl on hers, leaving a wide berth of space between them on the road. Tharic struggled to his feet, even tho the lighting strike did not hit it him directly it still took its toll from mere shock alone. Tharic check to see if the girl was alright but she could not be found anywhere, as he scabbed to his feet he heard a familiar voice.

"THARIC!"

It was his mother, she had come running down the side of a hill from the distance and rushed to her son's side.

"What do you think you are doing? You could have been killed."

"Mother I am sorry for staying out this late but there was a girl you see and she needed my help."

"Trust me dear, you were the one who needed help."

Tharic was confused as to what his mother meant, what possible harm could a little girl bring to a mage like himself? Tharic was more than capable than handling the occasional bandit that came to close to their house.

As both mother and son turned around to head back to their home, there was the little girl standing in the road, as still as a statue and as quite as a corpse.

"Tharic head back home right now, take the long way around but hurry."

"Why mother? What's wrong? She's just a little girl."

"No she is not."

Tharic knew better than to question his mother but still couldn't believe that this girl was as big of a threat as his Mother made her out to be. But just as his Mother instructed Tharic headed back home as fast as his legs could carry him.

It was now well into the night and winds had died down while the rain had lighten to a feathery shower. The mother and child stood on the road across form one another staring each other down.

"I know what you are night spawn, keep away from my son"

"O sweety I can't do that, you see your son saw something he shouldn't have and that presents somewhat of a problem for me. You know how it is, loose ends and all"

The girl, as young as she may have looked spoke with such age and authority, far exceeding that of a 10 year old child.

"Please just leave us alone, I don't want any trouble with you or your kind. My son and I live outside of the city, the villagers don't even like us being this close, and we won't cause you any grief."

Tharic's mother pleaded with the night child, but her plea's seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"I'm sorry but my family don't do 'favours', your son is a problem and must be dealt with accordingly."

"I swear if you come anywhere near my son I will burn you and all of your night dwelling family."

Tharic's mother's hand suddenly ignited into flames but the girl chuckled at the threats made against her, as if she was joking.

"You think that's the kind of family I lead (giggles). O sweety the kind of family I lead is the kind you differently don't want coming after you, I will admit you may kill two or even three of my brothers and sisters but we send as many as it takes to get the job done. We will be coming for you, of that you can be sure."

Without a second glance the little girl had vanished from sight and with that Tharic's mother raced back home.

Tharic was quietly waiting for his mother's return and suddenly the door swung open. His mother instructed that Tharic pack everything he needed to travel and abandon the rest as they were leaving Falkreath, leaving Skyrim for good. Tharic wanted to know why but his mother explained that there was no time to argue, so Tharic packed what he could as fast as he could.

"When are we leaving mother?"

"As soon as day breaks it will be safer then but for now we must remain here as it is safer."

"But why do we need to leave? Does this have to do with that girl on the road?"

"Don't you worry about that, all you have to do is just trust me that this is best for both of us right now okay?"

Tharic tried to find comfort in his mother words but he found a hard time doing so, never had he seen his mother afraid of anything before and this was a woman who fought off a group of bandits and their pack of wild dogs, all with a lightning bolt in one hand and curse in the other.

"Before we leave I need to go into town to get some supplies, you must stay here while I am away and if anyone approaches the house, shoot fire at them."

"But you said that I am never allowed to use the destruction…"

"I KNOW WHAT I SAID! Just do what I am saying now okay?"

Tharic's mother left straight after that, not wanting to waste any more time then she already had.

Tharic sat alone in the house, staring at the door waiting for his mother to come through. Tharic sat there looking down at his hands which glowed with bright blue fire. One thing that Tharic never understood about himself is that for some reason he was able to conjure blue flames from his hands instead of the regular red that every other mage seemed to.

At first he thought that he must be doing something wrong or that there must be something wrong with him but over time he came to except that this is just a part of who he is and eventually came to like the fact the he is the only mage that he knows of that can conjure blue fire, as it made him feel special.

The next thing Tharic knew it was morning, realising that he must have fallen asleep, he looked around and saw that his mother was nowhere to be found and with that rushed out the door, not caring for the fact that the wrong type of people may be looking for him, he just wanted to know if his mother was alright. Tharic started yelling into the forest calling for his mother but was met with no answer.

He remembered that his mother was headed for Falkreath to get supplies, so without hesitation he headed straight for the hold's capital. As he approached the gates of the city Tharic saw that there was a big crowd gathering around the town square, curious as he was he headed towards the crowd. As Tharic got closer to the centre he saw that there as great wooden stake standing up right in the centre of the square and all the towns' villagers were gathering around it.

Tharic pushed and squeezed his way to the front to find that he was meet with what can only be describe as his greatest nightmare. Tharic's mother was tied to the great wooden stake which was litted with logs and sticks. The Jarl of Falkreath had made his way to the front of the crowd, he held a roll of paper, preparing to read from it.

"I Flogar, Jarl of Falkreath, here by sentence you to death for the crimes of unlawful witchcraft, necromancy and attempted murder of a child. What are you last words in your final moments?"

"I have done nothing wrong, the child was a creature of the night and I have never used necromancy or unlawful magic."

As Tharic's mother tried to plea her case in her last desperate moments, villagers from the crowd started to shout accusations.

"She lies; I saw her call down lighting from the storm that she started, she tried to kill a child in cold blood using a storm!"

"Its true I saw it too, and she was also resurrecting corpses as well!"

"Burn the witch!"

One by one more villagers joined in on the chanting, Tharic couldn't believe what was happening. The Jarl of Falkreath stepped forward with a torch in hand and prepared to ignite the stake but in a fit of rage Tharic rammed his way through the crowd and blasted the Jarl with a powerful wave of ice. The Jarl was thrown off his feet and landed far back from the stake, in the confusion Tharic raced to untie his mother but the guards had intervened grabbing the boy and binding his hands prevent him from using magic to save his mother from her fate.

Tharic watched as the Jarl regained the torch and proceed to light the stake on fire, Tharic could only watch as his mother was burned alive in front of him. She yelled and scream in pain from the flames, burst of lightning and ice came from her hands, attempts to free herself but to no success. Tharic broke down in tears as his mother continued to be engulfed in flames, her flesh crackling, hair and fingernails melting. The smell itself was enough to send Tharic mad but the sounds sent him over the edge as did the expressions on his mother face.

"I LOVE YOU"

In her last moments Tharic tried to commune with her one last time but Tharic's mother could not hear her son as her own screams deafened his voice.

For what seemed like an eternity was finally over, the flames had died and so had the rest of the crowd which just stood there in silence. The Jarl of Falkreath approached Tharic, took a hold of his jaw with his left hand and proceeded with a punch. Tharic stood silent as if unaffected by the blow.

"You dare strike a Jarl of Skyrim? I will see you dead for that boy, just like your whore of a mother."

What little restraint Tharic had disappeared with that one comment. In a burst of absolute anger a tremendous wave of energy exploded from Tharic body, releasing him from his binds and sending not only the Jarl flying 80 yards away but also every person within range of the blast which was easily 5 meters in every direction. Everyone was shocked at the display of power but no more than Tharic himself.

Once realising that he was free of his binds Tharic ran from Falkreath, the guards that were not knocked unconscious were shooting arrows at him from a distance. Using magic from the illusion school Tharic cloaked himself in a camouflage spell and ran for his house on the edges of town.

When Tharic got to his house he knew that the guards would not be far behind as where he lived was no secret but he couldn't help himself, Tharic collapsed on the floor crying for the loss of his mother. It wasn't soon after that that Tharic kept repeating the same phrase over and over again to himself, nothing more than a slight whisper.

"I will kill them all."

"I will kill them all."

"I will kill them all."

To be continued….


	2. Chapter 1: My Sweet Mother pt 2

**My Sweet Mother**

By Jerickk

**Chapter 1: My Sweet Mother (pt. 2)**

Set 163 years after the death of Emperor Titus Mede II… (4E 364)

The night was pitch black, the wind didn't carry but the rain was falling hard, crashing against a cave far from the city edges of Falkreath. The water was dripping down the sides of the wall through cracks in the cave's roof. A single candle lit the cave preventing total darkness in the shadow of night. There sat a boy in silence, clutching a book as if it was a new born baby, flicking through the pages searching for the entry that he believed would bring the just desserts for the people of Falkreath city.

Tharic began lighting several other candles in the cave; they were arranged in a circle revealing a skeleton in the mist of the light. The skeleton itself still had bits of flesh attached to it, whereas most of the bones were stripped clean as if they never had flesh to begin with, inside the ribcage rested a human heart. The heart was fresh hardly a day old whereas the skeleton and the flesh were at least two days older, Tharic placed the book next to the skeleton; it had a thick black cover with no title on the front, the pages were as dark as the cover and much heavier than the norm.

Tharic reached for a bag and from out of that small leather bag he pulled out two things, an iron dagger and a plant with bright purple petals, it was known as Nightshade. Tharic began to pluck the petals from the flower and once he had a handful he proceeded to rub the petals onto the dagger's blade, as he did the blade began to glow with a slight purple tinge as the juices from the petals stained the iron.

Once Tharic had finished with the petals he moved ever so slightly closer towards the skeleton as if he was trying to savour the moment as much as he could. Now within striking distance Tharic raised his dagger above his head and began the assumed motions of stabbing the skeleton. As he continued to do this a hallowing echo could be heard throughout the cave.

"Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

Tharic repeated this phrase all throughout the night until a shadowy figure stood in the entrance of the cave. It was the little ten year old girl from the road that Tharic's mother had warned him to run from, the girl's red and black dress was wet from the rain as was her short brown hair, her skin seemed to somewhat match the colour of the moon but her eyes matched her dress.

"I lost my mummy and daddy…. (giggles) rather convincing don't you think?"

"Yes, rather… I summon an assassin and I get a little girl?"  
Tharic not having yet figured out what the little girl was, appeared disappointed at who had received his pray.

"O my dear boy, in truth, I'm no more a little girl than you are. I was once, of course. Three hundred years ago. What? Still haven't figured it out yet? Would you like me to smile a little bigger?"

Tharic paused for a moment until realizing the obvious answer.

"Vampire…. Should have figured, I must admit you did arrive a lot sooner than I thought you would. You should start a courier busy, you'd make a killing."

"O this one has a sense of humour, how nice. I have been stalking you for days; I was planning on killing you and was worried that the big angry mob from Falkreath would deprive me of the pleasure but after watching your movements it took me all of half a second to figure out what mischief you're been up to."

"Why did you want to kill me?"

"You saw the entrance to one of my sanctuaries, knowing the location of one creates quite a bit of a problem for me, as you can imagine. But we have business to discuss do we not?"

"Yes we do."  
Tharic was quivering at the sight of the girl now that he knew what she was. Face to face with an assassin drove Tharic into an uneasy state, he needed the little girl but the girl also wanted him dead for her own reasons. But Tharic figured that was a problem for another time, he choose to deal with the one he had now.

"I heard about your mother by the way, terrible way to die and I should know, you have my condolences of course. Now whose head do you want mounted on your wall? The Jarl I assume, as it was he who sentenced your mother to burn at the stake"

"My contract is bigger than that"

"Is it now? Do you want a few villagers dead also? The ones that falsely accused your mother?"

Tharic soon realised that his fantasises were about to become reality, as he took a deep breath he also tried to take in the moment that he was now going to be responsible for the deaths of so many.

"I want everyone, currently living in Falkreath, dead. Men, woman, dogs they all must share the same fate like the one they forced onto my mother."

The girl stood silent, not making a move or gesture of any kind. The rain continued to fall heavily outside the cave, the sound getting louder as the night drew on.

"Quite a contract you offer."

"Don't tell me it's too big for the Brotherhood."

"No, we accept. But payment will of course have to be substantial for a contract this size; I must ask can you afford such a thing?"

"I have a house, it's yours and everything in it but I have a condition of my own."

"And what would that be? Dare I ask?"

"I must be allowed to take part in the contract. The Jarl must die by my hands."  
Tharic knew that making demands from an assassin may not be the wisest of decisions that he has ever made but he knew, in what remained of his heart, that he must be the one to kill Jarl Flogar.

"Such a request is within reason for me to grant."

"No, it's a deal breaker, either I take part or there is no contract."

"Very well, your house will be taken as payment and you will be contacted when the Brotherhood is ready to proceed. I suggest you get some rest boy, you have a big day coming up."  
And with that the vampire child disappeared into the night.

Tharic sat alone in the cave trying to get any rest he could but he felt uneasy about what he had just set in motion, the deaths of not one or two men, but that of an entire village. He felt that he was starting to feel remorse for those that he had damned but then the images of his mother raced through his head, her screams, her pain. After remembering his mother all those feelings of regret and remorse just seemed to dissipate into oblivion itself.

When morning struck Tharic arose from cave, he stepped outside but found that he wasn't sure what to do with himself, there were no guards to run from, no place to call home to run to. Tharic found himself just waiting outside the cave, looking for any sign that it was time for Falkreath and all that lived in her, to meet the void.

As Tharic lay under the rays of the sun, he found the desire to sleep once more. As he slept he noticed that he was not sleeping but dreaming, dreaming about Falkreath, about how it was before that night on the road. Falkreath was peaceful and welcoming; he remembered what Falkreath was like when he was only a boy of 2 or 3, not even knowing that he was a mage yet. The town's folk were kind and pleasant, all the mothers and grandmothers of the village were all coming up to him and intruding his space, grabbing him up into their arms, kissing his cheeks and forehead, Tharic's mother was not shy about showing her baby boy off to the whole village.

As the 3 year old Tharic was smiling and laughing in the arms of a strange woman he noticed that Falkreath started to change around him. Buildings started to catch on fire, arrows were flying down from the sky and laughter was turning into screams. Tharic was no longer in the arms of a woman he was standing in the middle of the town square, still a child and helpless to watch as the chaos resumed around him. Men and woman with hoods in red and black armour were wielding weapons and cutting down any and all that were unlucky enough to cross their path.

None were safe from the madness, as bodies started to litter the streets Tharic once again found himself in front of his burning mother, tied to the stake and a set alight. But this time it was different it was not like before, Tharic's mother was not screaming in pain or trying to escape, she seemed sad in fact, almost crying. Tharic was confused as this is not what he remembered happening the day of his mother's burning.

Tharic's mother leaned in towards her son, she was whispering something which Tharic could not hear, as he moved closer and closer still he heard nothing. But the movement of his mother's lips didn't stop so Tharic came closer; the phrase was but a whisper, barley able to understand, it wasn't until Tharic stepped into the fire that burned his mother that he was able to her what she was saying. Tharic leaned in and positioned his ear near his mother's mouth.

"_How could you do this?"_

Tharic awoke to find that it was night once again and that the night child was standing over him.

"Sweets dreams I hope."

"Not exactly"  
Tharic didn't know what to make of his dreams, they weren't memories but they weren't conflictions of his subconscious, Tharic knew that this is want he wanted, what he demanded be done. But was it what his mother would have wanted?

"I must say you have caused quite a stir within my family, most are very eager about Falkreath. A few have even wished for me to inform you that this would have to be the most fun they have had in the last decade or so."

"Well goodie for them."

"As you can imagine killing bards and farmers does tend to get a little stale. Shall we proceed to Falkreath? My brothers and sister are waiting."

"Why not?"

Tharic followed the vampire to the edges of Falkreath city, along the way Tharic couldn't help but think about what his dream might have meant, was it a dream or was it perhaps some sort of message from his mother. Was she in some way trying to speak with Tharic from beyond death, Tharic knew that such a thing would in a general sense be possible as ghosts and spirits of the long dead roamed the earth so a message in his sleep would not be that far of a stretch.

Ahead Tharic could see that a group of eight men and woman were waiting off to the side of the road.

"Your family I assume."

"Yes, some are even willing to meet you."

The group moved closer greeting the vampire as she approached; there were eight in total, four men and four women. All of them wore the same red and black armour, most wore leather but some were wearing robes, mages Tharic assumed. A woman stepped forward, a dark elf, she wore a mask that covered her mouth and most of her nose and she also donned a hood, the elf had a presence about her, one of authority, Tharic could tell by the way she stood much more solid than the rest of the group.  
Her eyes were black and red like most elf's of her kind, her skin was that of a light grey, slightly lighter than the usually.

"So this is the boy? Must say not at all what I expected, a lot prettier than you described Speaker."

The elf chuckled, her own words were soft and comforting like those of a mother, perhaps she was one as she looked old enough, no more than thirty years.

"Hush Droath, the boy is eager for the killing to start."

"As are we all Speaker, but surely we can spare but a few minutes to become acquainted with are new friend, after all, we will be spilling blood together."  
Droath as it seemed the elf was called seemed to be in no hurry, wanting to speak more than stab.

"But where are my manners? My name is Droath and these are my brothers and sisters."

Tharic turned his attention to the rest of the group, among the remaining seven members there was a male Khajiit, an elderly Breton male, a young female Redguard, a middle aged Nord man, a middle aged Nord woman, a Breton male and a young female Imperial.

"Your contract was so big that the Falkreath Sanctuary didn't have enough assassins for the job, we had to borrow a few from Dawnstar."  
Droath was not shy about revealing information about the brotherhood to Tharic. This in a way put him on edge as he assumed that the vampire still wanted him dead because he knew the location of the door, maybe they were all planning to kill Tharic after the Jarl was end, the brotherhood was known for tying up loose ends.

"Exactly how many holds do you have in Skyrim?"

"Curios little bugger aren't you? But no, I don't want to talk about little old us; I want to get to know you a little better. For starters can you fight or are we going to have to babysit you the whole time?"  
Droath's tone changed from a playful cheer to a much more serious tone. The elf wasn't interested in playing bodyguard for the 16 boy.

Why should she? Droath after all was an assassin, payed to kill not protect, Tharic honestly found the question a little insulting, he knew that he was no trained killer but he wasn't a helpless newborn. Tharic raised his hands and ignited them with his blue fire; Tharic could see a slight expression of relief come across her face, now knowing that Tharic wasn't completely defenceless.

The elderly Breton male pushed his way to face Tharic, he found himself fascinated by his blue fire. He reached out to touch the flames and could feel the heat resonating from them, the Breton could only watch in fascination at the sight of the fire.

"I must say my boy in my years of dealing with magic I have never seen a mage conjure blue flames before, I must ask, how do you do it?"  
The old man waited eagerly for an explanation but Tharic knew the one he was going to hear is not the one he wanted.

"I don't know, since I first started using magic blue fire is all I have ever been able to summon."

"What? You mean you have never summoned red flames"

"Blue is as easy for me as red is for you."

The old man found himself hobbling back to the group muttering under his voice, various things about how Tharic was as much help as a rock was to a swimmer. Droath found herself laughing under her voice at the Breton reaction.

"Don't mind Krex, he doesn't like anyone. Think of him as the cranky old grandfather that you never want to see."

"And yet I am stuck with you lot."  
Krex seemed like the type of person that would kill you simply for messing up his food order at an Inn or not running his bath at the right temperature. The old man had wrinkles all over his face, his hair was all but gone and his skin was dark and tanned, the years had not been kind to him but Krex was still strong, stronger than he looked.

"Enough chit chat, were here to kill people so let's get this over with, I got a sweet roll waiting for me back at the sanctuary."

The vampire child stepped forward.

"Yes I believe we have wasted enough time. Now I assume that you all remember your specified tasks? Archers are to take the two towers at the front gate while rest of us will circle the city."  
The vampire now turned her attention towards the Khajiit.

"Except you Do'Varsheer you will remain at the gate to ensure that no one escapes, understood?"

"Understood Speaker."  
Tharic could tell in the voice of the Khajiit that he was unhappy about being posted at the gate, clearing hoping to be in the thick of the chaos.

"Once the town centre has been cleared all of us will make are way to the Jarl's palace. Hmm… it's a lot bigger than I remember, it certainly wasn't three stories high, hundred years ago or so."  
The vampire child seemed to be lost in memory, clearly remembering a time of Falkreath were it had been much smaller and the palace not nearly as grand as it was now.

"All the town guards will retreat to the palace to project the Jarl, be careful not to be overwhelmed."

Droath agreed with the vampire Speaker.

"Yes, the guards may not seem like much one at a time, but in a group than could destroy you, so watch each other's backs."

The group of assassins began to grow restless, some were just eager to start stabbing while others seemed to be generally nervous. They were assassins after all, not soldiers of fortune, not an army. The vampire signalled the assassins to take place and ready for the attack, Tharic could hardly believe that this was finally a reality, his hands started to sake; he had never been involved in the sacking of a town.

Never even heard of one.

"Tharic, you are to stay at Droath's side during the attack, try not to wander too far, as she is your best chance of survival."

Tharic followed Droath around the edges of the city but stopped at the back of the graveyard of Falkreath, he had no interest in obeying a vampire tonight. Tharic pulled his hood over his face and then waited. Tharic waited for a sign of the chaos to start any sign, a scream in the distance, the sounds of the guard's bell alarm, anything that would tell him that it was time to strike.

And then it happened, a building exploded in the distance, as fire and shrapnel flied everywhere Tharic positioned himself in the centre of the graveyard and closed his eyes. His hands glowing a shade of purple resembling that of despair, muttering an incantation under his breath, shards of energy were swirling all around him. He could feel the power building up inside, the spell was near completion.

The great power swelled within him, Tharic's nose and ears started to bleed. And with that, Tharic opened his eyes and magic exploded in every direction, penetrating the ground of the cemetery.

To be continued….


	3. Chapter 1: My Sweet Mother pt 3

**My Sweet Mother**

By Jerickk

**Chapter 1: My Sweet Mother (pt. 3)**

Set 163 years after the death of Emperor Titus Mede II… (4E 364) science

Screams echoed in the night and blood was staining the streets of Falkreath, the dark brotherhood had come to claim the lives of all who lived in Falkreath, under the wish and pray of Tharic Heartrage.

Tharic laid on the ground unconscious, the power of his spell had sapped almost all his strength, his eyes opened to the sight of a bone hand clawing at his face from under the ground. Tharic barely made it to his feet only to fall upon a tombstone, there he rested and watch as his spell took effect and the skeletons of the long dead dug and pulled themselves out of their own graves. It seemed that every time that Tharic looked, another grave was being disturbed.

As the first of the undead were almost free of the earth Droath came to Tharic's side demanding to know what he had done.

"What the hell have you done? You stupid kid, are you trying to kill us all?"

"I am just evening the odds in our favour, in case you can't count Droath there are only 10 of us against an entire town's guard!"  
Tharic looked up to see the skeletons making their way towards him, as the they came closer Droath readied her sword in defence but the undead turned their attention only to Tharic.

The undead stood tall with sword and shield in hand, waiting for what Tharic assumed was his order, Tharic resting against the tombstone rose to his feet, still exhausted from the summoning spell. Tharic then proceeded to order his small army of 13 undead soldiers to hunt down any citizens of Falkreath left alive. The skeletons started to grow restless; they seemed to go into a small rage, banging their shields with their swords, screeching and screaming into the night. Howls that would send shivers down the spine of any man.

The undead soldiers stormed off, cutting down several men and woman alone the way, the pain that they felt was only matched by the sheer fear that they experienced while in the presence of the corpse warriors. Droath made her way back to Tharic helping him regain his balance.

"Come on kid, if we don't hurry my family and your monsters will get all the fun and leave nothing for us."

"I agree lets head straight to the palace of Falkreath."  
Droath raised concern as this was not part of the original plan.

"My brothers and sisters are still scattered around the city, if we go to the palace now, we're on our own."

"My mother is dead, I am going to be alone for the rest of my life so I might as well get used to it now. Besides the bulk of the guards haven't retreated into the keep yet so if we slip in now we can reach Jarl Flogar without having to fight the entire town guard."

"Make sense I guess, but what happens when the guards do retreat into the keep?"

"They will have us to deal with in the front and your family and my army at their backs. I don't expect them to last long."

"Your plan does ensure that we see ensue a lot of chaos. The Jarl's palace it is then."

As Tharic and Droath made their way to the palace, Tharic could feel his strength returning, he had never even attempted such a spell on such a grand scale before. His mother always warned him of the dangers of overcharging spells and the unpredictability they could bring.

Towards the palace Tharic saw the destruction that had befallen Falkreath, as the town guards fought what was obviously a losing battle the people of Falkreath could do nothing but scream in terror as blood fell as rain does. Men and woman were being slaughtered in the streets, Tharic watched as it happened and as he did he found that he felt very little for the poor souls. He knew that not all were to blame, not all accused his mother but none came to her defence either and Tharic believed that not speaking out or killing his mother themselves, there was no difference.

But he found that he could no longer watch the fate of Falkreath unravel before his eyes and turned his gaze away focusing on the one man that he knew he was going to enjoy killing tonight, the Jarl.

Tharic and Droath were near the palace, the doors were in reach Tharic half expecting the doors to be barred from the inside and his assumptions were correct. Droath looked shocked but not all that surprised.

"Weird, I would have assumed that the guards would have waited for the rest to retreat before barring the doors, guess the Jarl only cares about saving his own ass."

"Then how do we get in Droath?"

"As much as I would like to simply blow the doors up, the plan is stealth and blowing crap up is not what you would call stealthy. We need another point of entry."

"Are there any back doors or windows."

"Back doors? No, this is the only door in and out of the keep and the closest windows are ten feet off the ground."

"Then what?

"We can use the windows but we will need to climb a building and jump."

"Great…."  
Tharic was less than happy about jumpy through a window ten feet of the ground but realised there was little choice."

"Besides, now that we know the doors are barred we need to get in there and open them."

Tharic and Droath made their way to the next building which was the barracks, not much in the way off a building but it was tall enough and the only building next to the keep. The barracks were old and almost to the point of run down, the Jarl had clearly not invested any of his coin into improving the security of his city.

Tharic and Droath had made it to the roof of the barracks and could see the nearest window in view, it was a red, blue and purple stain glass window, the design was that of the cities banner animal an elk. Tharic stood on the edge of the barracks; from the roof he could see all of Falkreath, he quickly turned his attention back to the window and wondered how jumping off a building and into a window was going to work.

"So Droath what do we do now?"

"What kind of stupid question is that? We jump."

"Jump? Through the glass? Not knowing what's on the other side?"

"Try not to get any glass in your eyes."

Droath, without hesitation grabbed Tharic by the arm, Tharic was taken by surprise, his heart began to race and sweat was dripping from his forehead, he had no desire to jump. Droath then swung around and threw Tharic with great force through the window. He could only close his eyes and wait for the window, Tharic heard stories that when you're under pressure in extreme situation, the world seems to slow down, but from his current experience he knew right away that was bullshit. The world speeds up.

Before another thought could run through his mind Tharic was already through the window and rolling on the stone cold floor of the keep, bits of glass had punctured his body but Tharic didn't have time to worry about the pain. Before he could even get up he saw Flogar, the Jarl of Falkreath, and his personal guards were already in pursuit, one guard was almost within striking distance and Tharic hadn't even had time to move.

As the guard raised his sword, he just collapsed on the floor, a dagger was sticking out from the back of his skull, and blood was spurting and oozing from the wound. Tharic looked up to see Droath standing in the arch way of the window she seemed satisfied with herself as the distance from the window was far, the throw in itself was impressive.

"Kill the intruders! I want their heads on spikes and mounted on the walls of my city, kill them! Kill them now!"

The Jarl ordered the bulk of his men to deal with Tharic and Droath while The Jarl and his personal guards retreated up the stairs to the higher levels of the palace.

Tharic rose to his feet and Droath made her way down from the window and meet him at his side. Tharic raised his hands and ignited them with his blue fire while Droath unsheathed her two weapons. One was a black sword that looked of ebony design, it had runes inscribed into it and the blade glowed with a red aura as Droath held it in her hand. The other was an axe; same as the sword in colour and ebony design, the axe also had engravings that glowed at Droath's touch.

The guards charged towards Tharic and he readied for his first blast of fire but before he could Droath lunged towards the guards, sword in one hand and axe in the other, Tharic just stood and watched in amazement at the degree of skill that Droath possessed. Droath twisted and turn dodging the attacks of the guards and following with her own. Her axe and sword seemed to work as one as, if they were not weapons at all but an extension of her own body.

Each swing of Droath's sword or axe brought another guard down and another and another but Tharic soon realized that Droath was beginning to become overwhelmed even with her superior skill. Tharic came up from behind Droath and scorched guards left, right and centre, with each flick of his wrist another guard went up in flames. Tharic found it surprising just how easy this was for him, was he this naturally good at combat or were the guard of Falkreath just inferior?

Droath found that she was equally impressed with the display of magic that Tharic wielded, he would burn them from a distance and if a guard came to close he would send them flying with invisible force. It wasn't long before they both found themselves surrounded by bodies, Droath's red and black armour was stained with blood, even more was dripping from her sword and axe, Tharic looked at Droath for a moment and didn't recognize her, what he saw was a truly gifted warrior.

"You know your way around a blade I take it?"

"You noticed? How sweet of you."

"Are all of the Brotherhood as skilled as you?"

"On a general scale no, but the brotherhood doesn't let incompetent idiots join either."

"No kidding."

"You wield magic as if it were second nature which is impressive for someone so young, a prodigy perhaps?"

"Never liked that word, a smug sense of superiority seems to follow with it."

"You sound a bit like Krex, a discussion for another time for now let's keep killing shall we?"

Tharic and Droath moved towards the stairs and proceed to advance to the upper levels of the keep; once they had made it to the second floor another battalion of guards were waiting. Tharic and Droath together easily dispatched them as they did the last group. Tharic found that these guards had to be of poor training as he himself had little and yet he was able to kill them easily.

"The Jarl should keep a few dozen guards for himself if he plans on staying alive, at this rate he won't have any left when we get to him."  
To Tharic, it seemed that Droath wasn't worried at this point given her tone, it was one of arrogance and why shouldn't she be in such a mood. Droath was crushing guards as if they were butterflies.

Tharic paused of a moment to think.

"Droath shouldn't we wait for the others?"

"What's the point if this is all that stands between us and the Jarl we don't need backup. Besides I take it that killing the Jarl is going to be a moving experience for you and I am guessing you don't want to share that with a room full of killers."

"Fair enough."

"How do you plan on doing it anyway? Killing the Jarl I mean, do you have something special installed?"

"I hadn't thought about it to be honest, I wanted revenge but didn't think about how it would go."

"Good, leave it that way; a spontaneous reaction is more natural and says a lot about a murderer."

"I am no murderer."

"O sweetheart that's adorable, you arrange the death of an entire village and plan to kill a man, a Jarl no less and you still believe that you are no murderer. You may not have put your own hands to the throats of the people of Falkreath but you are their murderer none the less."

Tharic grew restless.

"Let's just kill the Jarl and be done with it."

"Yes we should get back to that shouldn't we?"  
Droath had a spring in her step after their conversation, personally satisfied with making Tharic understand just who she thinks he truly is.

Tharic and Droath returned to the stairs and proceeded to the third and last floor, once there they found that the room was empty. It was a great dining hall with a table built to fit at least 30 people, at the far end of the room was the throne of the Jarl. Both Tharic and Droath were at a lost as there were no other doors and the only windows were intact.

Tharic flew into a rage.

"WHERE THE HELL IS THE JARL?"  
Tharic stormed all over the hall setting everything he saw on fire, he was contempt with burning down the whole palace of Falkreath, until Droath spoke.

"Okay let's think about this for a minute, no doors and the windows are too high up which means there is a concealed door in the hall somewhere."  
Droath started to walk along the walls of the dining hall checking for any sign of a hidden lever.

"Nope nothing on the walls, wait… O Jarl Flogar, how original."

Tharic watch Droath as she approached a single bookshelf.

"How do you know it's the bookshelf?"

"Because the library was on the second floor, this is the only bookshelf in this big ass room and not many people know this but the Jarl can't read, so why would he have books in the room where he spends most of his time?"

"The Jarl can't read?"

"Yeah, he is a bit of an idiot"

"But I saw him read a scroll of paper when my mother was burned."

"No, he pretended to read from it, he memorizes what he is going to say beforehand. He does it all the time, makes people think he can read."  
Searching among the books Droath at last found the book she was looking for and gave it a pull. From that the book case swung open and revealed a hidden corridor. The corridor was dark and barely lit, the grey stone walls weren't at all inviting.

"Well Tharic, let's go kill us a Jarl."

Tharic and Droath continued down the dank corridor, it seemed that there was no end to it but then the two started to hear voices, only just an echo but it was clear, the Jarl was close. The Jarl could be heard yelling at his guards, demanding that they get him out of Falkreath and to the nearest hold but the guards explained that the only way out was the corridor they came through. The Jarl was worried and grew nervous never had he thought that he would be killed in his own house.

Tharic and Droath stopped just before exiting the corridor they could see that it had lead them to a great porch that gave a view of all of Falkreath from the third level.

"So Tharic should we sneak up and kill them by surprise?"

"No the Jarl should know who is going to end his miserable life."

And with that Tharic stepped out for the shadows and confronted the Jarl and his remaining personal guards on the great porch, the mage and the assassin stood firm in front of the Jarls men. The guards stood their ground but were moving inches away, nervous at the sight of both Tharic and Droath.

"NO I WONT LET YOU KILL ME IN MY OWN HOUSE, GUARDS KILL THEM BOTH, KILL THEM NOW!"

The Jarl was furious and with his request the remaining guards charged but theses guards were no more skilled than the rest, Tharic and Droath quickly killed them with eased. As the last guards fell, the Jarl could do nothing but watch the two make their way closer towards him.

"Wait, stop; please don't kill me."  
The Jarl was on his knees in tears, the last resort of a desperate man.

"Wait elf, I have gold, lots of gold kill the mage and let me live and you can have all the gold you desire. A simple favour for an old nord."

"Sorry Jarl the brotherhood doesn't do favours, clean up when you're done Tharic."

Tharic stepped forward, his hands were shaking with anticipation and glowing with bright blue fire, he could feel the heat on his face from his hands and Tharic at last had what he wanted.

"Tharic? Yes I know you, I burned your witch of a mother and you attacked me in the street. I offer the same deal to you; kill the assassin and all the gold you could ever desire will be yours."

"No amount of gold can bring my mother back or heal my pain; only your blood can do that Jarl Flogar."

Tharic raised his hands but the fire disappeared, his hands started to pulse with an invisible energy and it rippled through the air. As Tharic raised his hand the Jarl lifted off the ground. Flogar was choking and coughing up blood, as he dangled in mid-air he tried for one last plea for his life.

"Please, mercy."

"The kind of mercy you should my mother?"

"It was a mistake I see that now, please I am sorry for what happened."

"Sorry doesn't bring her back."

"Please don't kill me, I have a family."

"So did she."

"Please don't."

As Tharic looked into the eyes of a weeping man his grip on the Jarl loosed. Florgar was hanging just before the edge of the porch.

"Fine Flogar, I won't kill you."

"O thank you thank you, bless you heart"

But Tharic's grip on the Jarl's throat once again tightened, he stepped forward and the Jarl was now over the edge of the porch.

"The thirty foot drop is what's going to kill you."

The grip on Flogar throat was released and so was he, he fell from the tower screaming and cursing all the way down until there was only silence. Tharic stood as a statue does, lost in thought, his vengeance was done and now he found himself alone. His revenge was his only company, the only thing that kept him going.

"The Job is done."  
The voice of a child rang from behind Tharic and Droath, their stood the vampire and the rest of the brotherhood assassins.

"Speaker."  
Droath returned to the rest of her brothers and sisters and the vampire stepped forward.

"And so here we stand, a town lies in fire, drowned in its own blood and you have the death of the man you sort."

"Do you have a point or are you just being dramatic?"  
Tharic was not amused by the vampire's words wished for a quick explanation.

"My point is, now what? Did you ask yourself that?"

"I don't know, I hear Hammerfell is nice this time of year."

"(Laughs) Amusing little thing aren't you, so you plan to leave?"

"I've got nothing left here."

"But what if you did, what if you had another family here in Skyrim? A family that can give your life a sense of purpose and direction."

"What are you talking about; my mother was the last family I had."

The vampire child smiled as she prepared her next words.

"Family isn't always blood. You display a remarkable talent for magic and violence and so I would like to extend an invitation for you to join are little family, the Dark Brotherhood."  
The vampire came ever closer to Tharic, baring a grin which displayed her white fangs that shone in the moonlight.

"Become an assassin, travel to new and exciting places, meet different and interesting people and then kill them. You have skill, skill that I would see nurtured and grown. Would you like to join are family?"

The vampires question came at a shock, never had Tharic pitched himself as a paid killer, it was a life style that not many take and even few succussed in. But Tharic found the thrill of the hunt exhilarating; he enjoyed killing Flogar, making him scream and cry, giving him false hoping before ending his life. Tharic had his answer.

"Yes."

The grin on the vampire widened, she extended her hand and Tharic meet with his own.

"Welcome to our family brother."

"Honoured and by the way vampire, you never told me your name."

"O gosh your right, how incredible rude. Allow me to formally introduce myself; my name is Babette, Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood."

"Tharic Heartrage, a pleasure."

As Tharic and his new family began to leave, someone sneezed, the brotherhood turned around to see a child walk out from behind a statue. The child bared a remarkable resemblance to Jarl Flogar, he had brown hair and blue eyes and couldn't be older than 5.

"I'll deal with this."  
Tharic walked up to the child, got down on one knee and stared the child straight into his eyes.

"Only the Jarls children are allowed to be in the keep aren't they?"

The boy nodded.

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

The boy shook his head.

"Well you better keep it that way or I will come back for you. Understand?"

The boy stood still, staring into Tharic's eyes.

"The only person I am going to kill is you."  
Tharic saw the burning rage in the boy's eyes, the same rage that he once had in his heart.

"Well….. come back and see me in a few years and we will see how that goes."

Tharic turned and left the boy in the palace, knowing one day he will see him again.

To be continued….


End file.
